The other grandmother -

Letting you sit in the 'shampoo' chair and watch as she puts finger-waves into the long, thin, blue-gray hair of really old ladies, and listen to all the talk and gossip of the beauty shop.

After a hard day of doing other people's hair for money, having you lean back in that same 'shampoo' chair, and giving you a good shampoo and a head rub to die for.

Thumping on the basement ceiling of the beauty shop with a broom handle to tell her granddaughters in the apartment upstairs to quiet down.

Sending us downstairs to the closed, dimly-lit shop with nickels to drop in the Coke machine, push down the broad, silvery lever, and wait for the satisfying clunk of an ice-cold 10 oz. Coke bottle dropping into the tray. We'd stand a moment and sniff the air, still rendolent with the chemical smell of the perms and dye jobs she had given that day, then head back up the steep stairs to play cards, eat popcorn, and drink those chilly drinks.

Letting you put the 20 combs she had just scrubbed into a sterilizer solution to soak overnight at the end of the day.

Giving you really awful haircuts until you are old enough to set your foot down.

Taking you to bowl in a lane beside her, as she bowls with her league team - (ready for this?) - the "Twenty Twinkles."

Teaching you to play gin rummy, rook, Yahtzee.

Inviting you and your college friends in at 1:00 a.m. when you appear under her lighted window unannounced to watch with her as Tiny Tim gets married.

Teaching you that a life of hard work and low pay does not have to be grim, especially when it is rich with family and laughter.